Teaching Gods to Breathe
by Cynical Eye
Summary: In the aftermath of Aizen's fall, a former colleague finds the man who has overseen the death of his loved ones and the storm in his son's soul. Isshin "Kurosaki" has a message to deliver, even if the recipient is in no mood. -No Romance-. Read and review. Spoilers for Bleach 529. Rated K for a little language, maybe.


Bleach is the property of Tite Kubo. Not me. All material is his. I'm borrowing it for my amusement.

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**Teaching Gods to Breathe**

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A Bleach short story.

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She was tending to the wounded Fifth Seat of the 11th Division when his reiatsu blinked into existence next to her. Steady hands did not betray her as she shifted attention to the newcomer, letting hundreds of years of "handy work" take over. With a nod, Captain Retsu Unohana acknowledged him. "Shiba-san."

A low growl, perhaps the most uncharacteristic thing she'd ever heard from the man, marked his annoyance. "Unohana-sempai," ever so slightly his voice toned respect, "where is _he?_"

Her lip curled not out of fear or annoyance, but unknowing. "Shiba-san, I'm afraid I don't know. He is masking his presence." A low laugh. "Though, how he does it is somewhat bewildering." She gazed back at her patient, who had kept quiet. "...Shiba-san, are you certain you wa-"

A puff of kido and Isshin Shiba, now Kurosaki, disappeared.

Retsu applied one last minor spell and Yumichika grinned carefully. "Who was that, Unohana-taichou?"

Her forehead knitted slightly. "An old friend who has not changed."

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Sitting cross-legged on the top of a building, Eighth Division Captain Shunsui Kyouraku lamented the loss of his hat. Among other things. More importantly, he was saddened by the conversation that was coming. Try as he might, Isshin Shiba could not hide himself from his former teacher, no matter what Shiba family demon magic he used.

Fondly, he recalled the first time his pupil-to-be produced fireworks out of thin air. It was during a trip to Rukongai with Jushiro that they stopped by the noble house Shiba. Entertained by their head, the tiny black haired child had ignited the air with a snap of his fingers. What a kido and hakuda prodigy he had been! His handwork was every bit as good as Shunsui's own!

The memories, like most of their brethren, were captured by his mind and forced down as the well concealed spiritual pressure of his former lieutenant appeared.

"Isshin-ku-..." Shunsui paused. "I'm sorry, Kurosaki-san." The sound of his exhaled breath carried endless melancholy. "How have you been?"

The hard jaw of Isshin, which so commonly wore a smile or smirk, was perfectly neutral. "Kyouraku-taichou." The title carried respect, but the friendliness between them was strained. "Where is _he_?"

In much the same way Isshin could not mask his signature from Shunsui, nor could his own master and almost-father. Wordlessly, the Captain pointed towards the crater created by the battle.

"...hn." Isshin clenched his fist. "I got him. For an old guy, he sure is good."

"Yes."

Before he shunpo'd away, Isshin dropped a hand on Shunsui's shoulder. "...maybe a drink, sometime, my friend."

After he was gone, the Shinigami Captain missed his hat, and missed when Isshin did not lie to him.

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The bleeding stump where the arm used to be was still bothering him, but the rock and sand, _ashes_, were soothing and silent. And, really, that was what the Captain-Commander needed. For the first time in centuries, _eons_, he felt...

Violated.

To have his own spirit power turned against him, to feel the flames of Ryūjin Jakka against his own skin... burning away his flesh... was unthinkable. A sensation no Quincy or Hollow could manage to inflict.

"Yamamoto."

The Captain-Commander didn't jump, but the sudden appearance of a spiritual power, a familiar and shadowed one, caused his shoulders to tense. Even as he turned slowly, his brain was processing all the history and memories of his adopted son's student. Isshin, wayward member of clan Shiba, stared at him with the face of a soldier; hard, unresponsive. His eyes steamed. "You," a thousand Hells burned in his throat, a menacing dragon in his tone, "will address me properly, _boy._"

"Tsch."

"Insolence!" Yamamoto chewed on the word nastily. "You may not be in the Gotei, former Captain Shiba Isshin, but you were reared in our home, _my home_, and you would do best to remember that, _boy._"

The Shiba retorted by walking past his former leader and putting his back to him.

A bloodthirsty voice, hot and wild, called on him to draw and slit the dog from head to groin... to burn him and his entire family down. Ryūjin Jakka, thankfully, quieted his own thoughts with a gentle warmth. It was always his Zanpakuto that managed to stop his tendencies and quell the monster inside.

They stood for several minutes. His arm bled, still.

Finally, Isshin turned his head. "It's over, Yama."

"Explain yourself, Shiba Isshin."

"You couldn't feel it, could you?" A peering eye. "No. You couldn't at all, old man."

"I'll scorch your tongue, _boy._"

"Tsch. Haven't you done enough, _soutaichou?_ Hasn't my family died enough for you?"

"Kurosaki Ichigo is alive," he growled. "I did not kill your nephew, nor his wife. Your fathe-"

"Shunsui told me about you once, soutaichou." The disrespect evaporated. "He told the story of a great monster, a fire-breathing thing that consumed all of creation. All of Soul Society."

Silence reigned.

The Captain-Commander refused to budge, but spoke. "The history of Soul Society, of the Gotei, of _your house_, is violent, Shiba Isshin. I molded the civilization you know with my hands, and, now, have given my arm for it."

Yamamoto opened his eyes wide as his former subordinate burst out laughing, a high-pitched cackle that bordered on insanity. "Your arm, soutaichou? What a waste."

Slamming his cane into the ground, the bearded warmaster roared. "_ENOUGH OF THIS, SHIBA ISSHIN! YOU WILL CONTROL YOURSELF!" _Not since Kyouraku had a man dared to lay on eyes on him like this... _fool._

"No, Yamamoto-soutaichou, it is you and your soldiers that must control themselves. My son has paid the ultimate price. He..." Isshin looked off into the distance. "...Ichigo has given up the thing that meant most to him in this whole world... and the next." He stopped for a moment. "Soutaichou... my son, my only son, _my wife's only son_, destroyed everything he wanted for you. You owe him, old man."

"Owe him for what, _boy? _Was his power so important to him?" The release of Ryūjin Jakka was on his fingertips. "Am I to roll over every time someone dies for the Soul Society? What nonsense!"

Isshin shook his head. "No, soutaichou. It was the person he was protecting. And, now, you help him. You do it for your _teacher._" He turned, slowly walking away. "You do it out of respect. Not for me, soutaichou. Never for me. For him."

"You expect too much."

"He can't do it, anymore, soutaichou. Ichigo can't."

"Can't _what?_ Speak plainly, _boy!"_

The younger man drew every piece of love he had into his voice, steeling it into a rumbling whisper:

"_HE IS DONE TEACHING YOU HOW TO BREATHE, OLD MAN."_

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Shunsui sat next to his mentor sometime later. "Yama-jii, how is your arm?"

The question was ignored. "The man has changed. What a... _fool._"

From across the hills a laugh echoed, followed by a loud cry of "Little Toshiro! My you've grown!"

"No, Yama-jii. He just knows what it's like to build something with his own hands. Isshin Shiba hasn't changed one bit."

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**Author's Note: Smells of Ichiruki if you look hard, hm? On purpose. Anyway, this scene came from me thinking about the scene where Yamamoto crushed Nanao with his aura, and, relatively, how Aizen and Ichigo transcended into what was surely the equivalent. Ichigo, as a character, is the opposite of everything the Gotei is, really; personal affections, protecting your loved ones no matter the cost.**

**Isshin has built a family, a society, of sorts with his own hands. He has lost his nephew (Kaien and his wife), his own true love, and, with this, his son, in a sense. To be honest, I found Yamamoto's decision to give Ichigo's powers back somewhat out of the blue. Dude is a stickler for the rules, if you haven't noticed.**

**This was a talky piece, so, sorry if that's not your thing.**

**Read and review. If you see any grammar or spelling errors, point them out. 'Til next time, Bleach Cowboys/girls.**


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